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elska mumbai

It was the third shoot for the Mumbai issue, and the third time that a cop came to interrupt our work. There was no reason for it, just a case of trying to assert authority, intimidate, and perhaps fish for bribes. In each instance, having a local with me diffused things, and fortunately no harm came, but it was frustrating. Prabhat taught me to just move along if a cop showed up, and to hide my camera when not using it.

When I was a teenager, I was pulled over by a cop for some traffic offense that I hadn’t realised I’d done. When I saw the flashing lights and heard the siren coming behind me, I kept pulling away, changing lanes to let him pass, not knowing he was after me. So when I did pull over, the cop’s anger was high. He wrote me a ticket and gave it to me with a big dose of profanity.

I decided not to pay the fine but go to court instead. The reason wasn’t to argue that I wasn’t at fault, but just to inconvenience the cop by making him attend court. Also, I wanted a moment with the judge and public to call him out for his bad behaviour. The cop was defensive, but the judge apologised on his behalf and slapped him on the wrist.

Since then I’ve not been good with the police, or with authority in general. Lucky for me, this was the last time that the Mumbai fuzz bothered me. One more time and I probably would have lost my cool and ended up writing this from an Indian jail instead of on my comfortable sofa with a cat purring on my lap.

I knew this boy was gonna be trouble before we ever met. When I first made contact with Aarash before my trip to India, he was totally keen on taking part in Elska but also way too casual about the details. When I told him he needed to write a story, the response was “no problem”; when I tried to schedule our shoot, he’d say “just let me know when you get to Mumbai”… I didn’t hold my breath, so when we finally did meet, I was surprised.

Yet despite my worries, we had an amazing shoot. He took me on the back of his bike and rode me around his neighbourhood, stopping in loads of interesting spots. His district, Kurla, was a fascinating mix of old and new, decrepit and modern. One particularly striking sight was a landscape of still-empty apartment blocks lining a street filled waist high with rubbish (a local even stopped by thinking I was a journalist and asked me to please draw attention to the dumping). Another sight was an area of shops selling just car parts. And then another was a square of gleaming international office buildings (where we stopped for tea and cake). A truly mixed up sort of place, which I love. And then it was time to go back to Aarash’s place for the more intimate shots.

It was such a great day that my doubts about Aarash went away. And then I waited for him to send his story. And I waited and waited and waited. So long that I prepared an alternate version of the issue without him. And then, just at the last minute, his story came. Oh Aarash, I love you and loathe you at once, kinda like how I feel about Bombay!

Every guy I shot nude in Mumbai was surprised that they weren’t the only guys to strip off for the issue. It seems that they assumed their city to be a lot more conservative than it was. As it turned out, it’s one of our most naked issues yet.

With Nihal S, however, there was never any intention to shoot him nude. Instead we met in Khotachiwadi, a former Portuguese district of Mumbai that’s also one of its most colourful and unique. We took photos around the streets and chatted along the way, finishing in a little café to cool off with well-deserved some lemonade… and you can tell he’s hot in the picture, right?!

As we sat in the café Nihal asked if we could do a nude shoot after all. It seems that he’d thought about it but needed to meet me first, you know, to be sure I wasn’t a creep or pervert. Satisfied that I was on the level, he was ready to join the other Bombay boys into nakedness. Unfortunately there really wasn’t enough time in the schedule to do it. But hey, Nihal gives me another reason on a long list of why I should go back to India.

When this Elska thing started, I was open to shooting any guy. It wasn’t out of principal, but simply because I was too naive to think that one type of guy would be more marketable than another. Over time I learned both that certain types of men are indeed “better” than others commercially, but also that Elska’s decision to ignore that commercial fact was in itself a selling point of Elska. Yet when I met Sanky E for our shoot, I felt somehow uncomfortable. And even after the shoot, before even looking at the images, I told myself that I wouldn’t include the pics in the issue.

It wasn’t age, race, or body type, but rather style that put me off. It seems that I had a problem with the fact that he wore make-up. I’ve shot guys with piercings, tattoos, beards, bellies, even straight guys and trans guys… but suddenly I meet a guy wearing make-up and I’m drawing a line?

But rather than accept my rejection of Sanky as some personal preference, I tried to think about why it bothered me. Honestly, as best as I can think, his make-up was a symbol of effeminacy that reminded me of my struggles with my sexuality as a young teenager. When kids in school called me ‘faggot’ or tried to mimic my voice, I did two things. First I withdrew to become a very quiet kid, trying to be invisible. Second I tried to butch myself up, teaching myself how I could walk and talk like a “man”. Needless to say, as I got older I thought I changed. That is until, I saw this Sanky with his preened hair, plucked eyebrows and beat face.

So I decided to just get over it and publish the images, ‘cos Sanky deserves to be equally with the other Mumbai boys. And, well, the boy looks pretty. Nothing wrong with that!

Faraz was the last guy shot for the Mumbai issue, although he was one of the first guys found for it. The thing is, he’s a really busy guy, very dedicated to making the first LGBT Indian silent film S i s a k. When we did finally get together, he helped make a perfect goodbye to Elska’s Indian adventure.

Faraz knows the city exceptionally well, and what I really mean is that he knows the best shops, the best restaurants, the best cafés, the best everything that the city has to offer. When we met in Kala Ghoda, I was at once in love and annoyed that I hadn’t found the neighbourhood sooner. He took me to this fantastic café where we had hot chocolate and some sort of ridiculously good cake made out of ground cashew nuts. Then he showed me around the rest of the area while I shot him, directing me to all the other places I’d missed out on and now wouldn’t have the time to see. In the end, Faraz gave me a great gift: a huge list of reasons to come back to India. One day I hope I will, and you better be there waiting for me, Faraz!

I met Jahan in the northwestern part of Mumbai, beyond the reach of standard public transport. So after I got the train as far as I could go, I hopped on an auto-rickshaw and told the driver where I needed to get. But he couldn’t understand me – I guess I was pronouncing the destination all wrong! So I called Jahan and handed the phone to the driver (a tactic I ended up using several times in Mumbai).

After about five or ten minutes I was dropped off in a busy market square, and I thanked the driver in good faith that he’d dropped me actually where I wanted to be. From there I searched to find Jahan, whom I’d only ever seen a couple pics of from his Instagram, but with all the crowds, it was impossible. Then just as I was about to reach for my phone again, he found me. Considering I was the only white guy around, it was easy!

So we walked to his place, but since his boyfriend was sleeping off a hangover in the flat, we went to his roof to shoot before quietly entering the flat. We shot with tip-toes and whispers in the kitchen, the lounge, the bedroom… then coerced his bf to leave the other bedroom so we could use it instead.

I really liked Jahan, a super intelligent and sharp guy, the kind who will read this and tell me how I am remembering the details all wrong! I had a bit of time after we finished shooting and wanted to spend it chatting with him, but I was too shy to ask. But as Jahan walked me outside, he invited me to the beach. Result! There we walked on the sand between calm sea and cliff rocks studded with couples making out. Another great Elska shoot with another great Elska boy, one that hopefully would turn into a lasting friendship.

I hate using taxis. Even in a city where public transport is especially difficult and uncomfortable like Mumbai, I still stick to trains and my feet. But when it came to shooting Vinamra early in the morning at his place way on the other side of Mumbai in Mulund, I opted for an Uber. At least with Uber I wouldn’t get cheated and the driver would have my destination on GPS so I wouldn’t have to explain where I wanted to go and so he couldn’t get lost on purpose. Plus in India, Uber is really cheap, which doesn’t hurt.

Anyway, when the driver dropped me off, I realised that I didn’t have the full address. I was stood outside a mid-rise apartment block with no apartment number and my local mobile phone was out of credit! Soon, the sight of a white boy in this far-from-central location started to grab attention. One by one, men started to approach me to see who I was and what I was doing hanging around their neighbourhood. None of them spoke English so I just kept saying “Vinamra”, “Vinamra" in hopes one would recognise the name. Then I whipped out my laptop where I thought I had his instagram page still open… but I didn’t. By this time I had around ten middle-aged men trying to take control of the situation.

Finally a youngish guy came up asking in English who I was looking for. And fortunately this guy knew Vinamra and told me I was outside the wrong building! He walked me across the road, and just as I got to the main doors, Vinamra emerged, wondering why I was late and wasn’t answering my phone.

Two lessons learned… 1) check your phone balance before you go out; 2) don’t expect to go unnoticed as a foreigner in India; 3) people in India will try to help you. Generally I hate being the centre of attention but in this case, it helped.